Survival of the Fittest
Prologue Stormfeather sat erect in the soft nursery, along with three kits and their mother. He surveyed each of them individually, checking their nose, eyes, ears, and mouth. He then let them go, observing them scramble to their mother and nurse. One was a bit slower than the rest. “What’s this one’s name?” He asked sharply, pointing with a claw. “Rainkit,” the mother answered in a quavering voice, curling her tail around her kits. “Rainkit appears to be below average health. We’ll see if he improves before the next sorting.” Stormfeather looked the kits over once more, then left abruptly. He padded briskly to Quickstar’s den. “Silvertail has two healthy kits, one questionable. The large, red tabby turned around, muscles rippling in the dim light. “Okay. When’s the next sorting?” “A quarter moon,” Stormfeather answered without any thought. As the deputy, it was his job to know these things. "Very well. When you have a minute, organize a patrol along the Riverclan border. Our scents have been mingling a little too much lately." Quickstar narrowed his eyes, then flicked his tail for Stormfeather to leave. One kit, two apprentices and a warrior trembled on the Flatrock, a long stone at the edge of the Shadowclan camp, large enough five warriors to sit on comfortably. On one end of the Flatrock was a steep cliff, nearly impossible to climb down and dizzyingly deep. The rest of Shadowclan was also gathered. "The cats that will be sorted today," Stormfeather, the cold, grey deputy announced, "are Rainkit, Leopardpaw, Feathernose, and Leafpaw. We will begin with Rainkit." Stormfeather cleared his throat and turned to the council, a group of six former loners and rogues that had joined Shadowclan by proving their strength in battle. "All who wish for Rainkit to remain with Shadowclan, stand up." Five of the six council members stood up, and Rainkit hopped off of the Flatrock with relief. He was now lively and had potential to become a good warrior. There was no need to get rid of him. The council continued the voting with the two warriors, until they arrived to Leafpaw. Leafpaw was a frail apprentice who had twisted her paw in battle training and had been limping since. The medicine cat, Longfur, had said that the leg could be healed, but it would take time. Time that the clan might not have. When Stormfeather asked how many council members wanted Leafpaw to stay, only two stood up. "Leafpaw has been deemed unfit for Shadowclan," the deputy stated. The council had already surrounded her, and was beginning to close in. "Goodbye, Leafpaw. Goodbye, Leafpaw," The council chanted, and the clan joined in until it was an eerie chorus of cats, and Leafpaw's hind paws were scrabbling for earth to cling on to. "Goodbye, Leafpaw. Goodbye, Leafpaw." Leafpaw's back legs slipped and she clawed desperately for something to grab on to. The council was crowded around her, eyes wide. "Goodbye, Leafpaw. Goodbye, Leafpaw." Her claws met nothing and Leafpaw fell into the rocky crevice, her yowls echoing across the territory. Chapter 1 I groaned and rolled over as dawn light peeked into the apprentice's den. There was plenty of room without Leafpaw. I opened my eyes. Leafpaw! A new wave of grief washed over me as I remembered Leafpaw's farewell a few sunrises ago. But even though she was my sister, as countless cats had reassured me, she was a weakling. Unfit for clan life. She would have died anyway, and her kits would have been weak just like her if she had them, so she had to go. They said the sorting was a tradition that had been preserved for many lifetimes, and Shadowclan was still the strongest. But I knew my sister could have gotten stronger. She didn't have to die. "You'd better get up, or Riverpelt will have your tail." Pinepaw poked me in the side. Riverpelt was both mine and Pinepaw's mentor until more warriors were available.